


We'll Be Found

by thoughtsappear



Series: Jeremiah Trevelyan [6]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Spoilers for Here Lies the Abyss, post adamant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 01:14:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3791137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtsappear/pseuds/thoughtsappear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After returning from Adamant, Jeremiah and Cassandra are only given a short moment to breathe before being flung back into the work of the Inquisition, but they try to make it count.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We'll Be Found

_I know we're lost but soon we'll be found_ ~ Sia

 

It’s late when they get back to Skyhold. They are a ragtag bunch, covered in bruises and scrapes. Jeremiah’s hair is caked with blood and dirt, Dorian’s left arm is in a makeshift sling, Cassandra has an ugly cut on her forehead, and Varric has a broken finger. They stumble through the gates in the middle of the night, but not too late that they don’t draw a crowd. Jeremiah handles the group as best he can, but his patience is thin and he is emotionally spent. He wants to retreat to his quarters but he knows he needs to speak with Josephine and Leliana and arrangements will need to be made. Cassandra’s hand is warm on his arm. He takes her with him and they go through the motions together. Say the right things, talk to the right people. But he can see the way her eyes drift closed and the way her voice is growing hoarse as she fights sleep. 

He takes her to his quarters and draws her a bath without being asked. While his own body is caked with mud and smells like death, he knows Cassandra hasn’t had a proper bath in weeks. Josephine had told him that while they were gone his fine soaps from Val Royeaux were delivered and he knows that nothing would suit Cassandra better than a pleasant soak.  Although the odds of her staying awake for a bath seem very low at this point. 

He’s already taken off his armor and has stripped himself down to thin linen breeches and a fine undershirt when she enters the room. The bath water is hot and he has lit candles and arranged the fancy soaps around the tub’s edge. She smiles at him, a small bandage on her muddy face and she drops the fine dressing gown she wears. Her body is undeniably sensual to him, in their short time together he has already learned most of it’s pleasures. He has to remind himself, this is for her, and he takes her hand and helps her sink into the bath. The water rises up to her neck and she dips completely underneath to submerge herself. She unpins her braid and lets it hang down her back, which fascinates him immediately. They don’t speak, they just contemplate each other. Cassandra unwraps a brand new soap and she looks at him with a shy smile. He silently crosses the room to wash her back and while he’s there he massages her shoulders and her scalp too. Her face is flushed but clean and after he finishes washing her, he goes to sit at the opposite end of the bathtub so he can face her, as she uses the delicate scented soap to lather her arms and chest.

He sits on a stool, thinking to himself. They haven’t spoken since they got back to his room, and he keeps feeling the beginning of unfinished sentences come to him, but he can’t just open his mouth and say them now. Cassandra lifts her shapely leg out of the water and he watches that instead. She catches his eye and smiles at him and makes a show of soaping her leg, lifting it high above the tub’s edge. She finishes washing herself and settles against the back of the tub. She meets his eye and opens her mouth, finally breaking the silence.

“How are you?”

Jeremiah rubs his eyes and squirms in his seat, “I’m tired, but I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.”

He sighs and walks over to her end of the tub and takes her hand and squeezes it. “What makes you say that?”

“I know you better than you think,” she replies squeezing back.

“That you do,” he says and he bends over to kiss her.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he continues, pulling back from the kiss and resting there, an inch away from her face. “Let’s just go to bed.”

He holds out a large fluffy towel for her and helps her out of the water. He wraps her in the towel and pulls her close and just holds her there for a moment. She smells incredible and he reaches up to brush her wet hair out of her face. “I love you, Cassandra.”

She kisses him this time, her hands around his waist and his around her shoulders and they just melt into each other. It’s been weeks since they’ve been alone together, besides stolen moments in tents on the way back from Adamant. He wants nothing more than to make love to her but they are both so exhausted he doesn’t think its fair to even try. He lifts the towel to her head and helps her dry her hair and together they walk into his bedroom. Cassandra slips a clean nightshirt over her head and slides into bed. He follows, immediately wrapping an arm around Cassandra and pulling her into him. He just wants to touch her, know she is there. 

His mind is swimming and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to sleep but somehow he does, better than he’s slept in days. Possibly because he’s in his own bed, possibly because Cass is there, he’s not sure. But he wakes up what has to be hours later, cold because she’s stolen all the blankets and there’s light streaming in through the windows and Cassandra is wrapped up with the blankets tucked under her chin. He’s not even mad, he’s tickled at how cute she looks. He bends over to kiss her on the forehead and she stirs but doesn’t wake. He tries to wrestle free a blanket for his feet, but she has them tightly tucked under her arms and he doesn't dare pull hard enough to take them. He might just get up, let her rest. Maybe go take a quick bath of his own. But the bed is so warm, and Cassandra is so lovely and he doesn’t want to leave her, so instead he snuggles up next to her and plants kisses on her cheeks, her forehead and one finally on her lips. She sighs at that, and he sees her eyes flutter open. She looks at him with half open eyes and she yawns.

“Good morning,” she says, untangling the blankets around her. He can see the nightshirt she’s wearing is pushed up around her thighs and he can see so much leg and just the beginning of the dark curls between her legs and he feels that _want_ he ignored earlier. 

Her crawls over her, and brushes up against her bare legs. He braces himself on his arms and leans down to kiss her, first soft, then it grows with more passion and intensity. He hears her sigh into his chest and he smiles to himself as he tucks himself between her legs, kissing her exposed neck in the baggy shirt. He feels her shiver and he shivers a little too.

He reaches beneath the covers and pulls her shirt up and over her head, leaving her naked underneath him. She is so beautiful like this he can hardly stand it. She sits up next to him and he kisses her collarbone, her shoulder and skims his hands over her waist and arms. 

He feels her hands on his back and she pulls him close to her. He can feel her breasts against his chest and he slides his hand down to her waist. They stare into each other eyes and neither one moves until he reaches up to cup her chin and runs his other hand through her hair. He winds her braid around his hand and she smiles at him. Her body is pressed tight against his and her skin is so warm and so soft. He lets go of her hair and caresses her left breast instead, running his fingertips over the nipple as it hardens.

“Jeremiah,” she breathes, and all of a sudden she’s kissing him and they are falling back into bed, his hands skimming her legs. He guides her to lay down on her back, his hand under her head and she settles on a pillow.

The feeling starts low in his stomach, curls up through his chest and settles in his throat. He wants to tell her again, he knows she knows, but he needs to make sure she understands. 

He takes her face in his hand so she has to look him in the eye.

“I have never felt like this about anyone,” he says. 

She closes her eyes, and smiles.

He kisses her throat, her collarbone, feels her hands stroke his hair. The feeling bubbled over, he had to say it. He loves her so much it feels like his heart can’t hold it all, and saying it only makes it fill his heart all the more.

He nuzzles her breasts, lavishes attention on her nipples, making her moan loudly and grab at his head, hold him close. He licks a path down her stomach, loving the taste of her skin, the way she feels under him, the way she smells. It’s all so very _Cassandra_.

She scoots back up the bed to give him more room, and he settles between her legs and runs his fingers over her hips and the outside of her thighs and lifts her legs over his shoulders. She sits up a little to look at him.

“You don’t have to-“ her words are cut off by a loud gasp as he runs his tongue along the length of her, and she lays back and closes her eyes. He loves doing this to Cass, making her moan and gasp and pant and break apart under his mouth. 

He has learned in their time together, how to read her body, how to bring her to the edge and then how to let her dangle there before tipping her over, how to make her forget herself, forget everything but the two of them. He knows the familiar rhythms of her hips, the noises she makes when she gets close, the ways she tries to get him to give her what she wants before he’s ready to give it.

It doesn’t take too long before she has her legs tightening around his head and her hands are tugging his hair roughly, not enough to hurt, but just enough to take him aback for a moment. 

“Don’t stop,” she gasps, when he falters for a moment. He doesn’t stop, he speeds up the clever dance he has created between his hand and his tongue. Cassandra comes, crying out in curses and the most blasphemy she ever uses, and he grins against her inner thigh.

She calms down, her body coming back to her slowly, and she looks at him, still half dressed, his erection tenting his trousers. She grabs at him, frantic, both of their hands struggling with the ties. She gets his pants undone and he lifts his hips so that she can yank them all the way down. He’s not even naked for a full ten seconds before Cassandra is crawling over him, straddling him, rubbing against his hardness, teasing him by not letting him slip inside her, but making them both want more.

“Cass,” he says, looking up at her. “I want…”

“I know,” she murmurs, still hovering just above him. She looks flushed and happy, and he can’t think of any woman he’s ever wanted more. 

“Please,” he begs, pulling down on her hips, and she takes him in slowly, and they both moan together as she moves, steady, her hands braced on either side of his face. He reaches up to tease her breasts and occasionally she leans down around him to kiss him. He pulls himself up into a sitting position and holds her in his lap as he comes with his mouth open against hers. 

“That was…good,” he says, when they have both caught their breath. His hand is on her face and he strokes her hair. His forehead is sweaty and she kisses him there and he makes a show of collapsing flat on the bed, his hand clutched to his heart. Cass laughs and kisses him on the lips and they lay next to each other for a moment, his hands skimming the softness of her body, every touch amplified with her sensitivity, her skin prickling into goosebumps. 

“We should probably get up,” he finally says. “The world won’t wait forever. I need to speak with Cullen, we have plans to make, people to see, things to do…”

“You are right,” she nods and she smiles at him, which makes Jeremiah want to wrap his arms around her and pull her right back into bed. He wishes they could just spend the day there instead. He promises himself, one day, when this is a distant memory, they will.

“Where are my clothes?” she is already bent over, searching for her pants.

“I had your clothes washed last night,” Jeremiah says, standing and going to his closet. He pulls out a clean pair of trousers and a tunic. “They brought new ones to replace them. I will go get them for you.”

Outside his door are her clothes, clean and folded and her boots have been shined. She dresses quickly, and he bends to help her lace her boots. He stands behind her, kisses her neck as she pins up her braid. The only thing she is missing is the heavy kohl she usually wears around her eyes. She looks younger without it and less harsh. 

“Let’s go to breakfast,” he says. “Josephine said she was planning a special meal for us to celebrate being back here.”

They go down to breakfast and see the group of everyone gathered. Their companions see them holding hands and a large smile and look is exchanged between Leliana and Josephine. Dorian and Varric sit next to each other, laughing, Sera and Bull poke each other and Cullen blushes and rubs his neck. 

Jeremiah forgets for a moment about everything that has happened and takes his standard seat at the head of the table. Cassandra sits beside him and Josephine is already in place at the other side. As promised, the meal is extravagant. There are orlesian pastries, boiled eggs, salted meats, exotic jams and jellies and freshly baked bread. It is a celebration of their good fortune, their victory and their escape from the fade. Jeremiah eagerly eats his breakfast at first, but finds himself distracted by thoughts of Stroud and the food feels heavy in his mouth as if he can’t bring himself to chew. He pushes aside a half finished plate while every around him eats seconds. No one seems to notice, but Josephine gives the servant a knowing look when his plate is whisked away. 

“We need to discuss our next move.” Cullen has been talking war table strategy all morning. The three advisors can’t agree on what they’d like to do next. Jeremiah can’t decide which one of them he agrees with. He would rather train in the courtyard, hit heavy things until he can’t hear his own thoughts, steal Cassandra away for kisses and plan pranks with Sera. But he knows none of those things are an option. 

He lets himself be dragged into a another meeting. They make plans to leave tomorrow for the long journey to the Exalted Plains. He is apprehensive about leaving so soon. But the trip has been put off multiples times already. The region needs to be explored and the ramparts need their help.

Afterward, he retires to his desk, but even that Is not a respite. A large stack of reports need to be read and his mind wanders too much to focus on the words. He can’t stop thinking about leaving Stroud in the Fade, having to choose between he and Hawke and still he wonders if he made the right choice. Has he doomed the wardens by not only robbing them of a viable asset like Stroud, but also by sending them away?

But he couldn’t possibly leave Hawke, not after everything he and Varric had done for the inquisition, for Kirkwall. He knows Hawke has a lover, an elf and a former slave. He had spoken of the man several times on the journey back to Skyhold. He thinks about what that must be like, to be parted from your lover to not know how or when you would reunite, and something in his heart clenches tight. He wonders about Stroud, what his family was like, how they will find out what happened, and the clenching around his heart only gets worse. 

He looks down at the mark on his hand and sighs. Everything he believes is a lie, he is no Herald of Andraste. He is not chosen. He is just a hapless idiot who walked into the wrong place at the wrong time. And now he is cursed with this evil mark. 

His thoughts drift again to Cassandra, he knows being in the fade had troubled her, seeing the visage of the divine, seeing her worst fears come to life. He frowns, remembering her strength in the face of doubt. He envies her faith and conviction. He already misses her presence. Perhaps the reports could wait.

He finds Cassandra in her quarters, writing in a book. She looks a bit frazzled, but calms considerably when he arrives. They each take a step toward the other and meet in the middle. He wraps his arms around her and buries his head in her shoulder. He kisses her on the cheek and then once briefly on the lips. He sighs against her with relief.

“Are you alright?” she asks, amused. 

“I’m not good with paperwork,” he grouses.

“I understand,” she nods and shows him what she’s working on. It’s a recollection of their ordeal. Its very short and straight forward, written in Cassandra’s small but neat hand. 

“I was wondering if you might help me with the ending, you were the last one to leave the fade and-“

She watches the color drain from his face. She takes a step away from him, leaving his embrace. He frowns.

“Is something bothering you? You have been acting strangely and-”

He shakes his head aggressively and stops her before she can finish her thought.

“Come here,” he replies, and instead of addressing her concern he pulls her close again and kisses her.

“Not now,” she says, not kissing back. He’s disappointed. He thinks this would have been a perfect opportunity to get out of his head.

“I’ve got to try to finish this,” she says, returning to her work, dipping her quill and writing with short, deft strokes. “Can we meet up later?”

“Later,” he promises, kissing her chastely on the cheek. He regretfully leaves, and goes back to his desk. The stack of papers has not disappeared on its own. He powers through them, filing away the ones he can handle and making a small stack to bring to Josephine. He has correspondence to respond to, and he begins writing a much procrastinated letter to his mother.

Hours later, Vivienne comes to collect him. It’s time for the late day meal. He looks up from his work and realizes he’s lost the day. He sighs and follows the woman, letting her prattle on about Orlais and fashion and new robes for the mages. At the dining hall, Dagna pulls him aside and eagerly tells him about new modifications she has made to his armor, and its the best news he’s heard all day. 

He sits beside Cassandra to tuck into a small bowl of a rich stew. Jeremiah is quiet at dinner but his voice is easily lost in the crowd. They are already talking about where they will journey next. Josephine is very excited about the upcoming Winter Ball, and she and Leliana cackle like hens when they discuss the event and the two of them look at Jeremiah with plans in their eyes. 

After dinner, he finally gets a moment to relax, and he and Cassandra train in the courtyard, wailing on the practice dummies until all he can feel is fatigue in his muscles. Physical exertion is good, his mind already feels clear and empty. He takes a short bath of his own, washing his hair with one of the less fragrant Orlesian soaps, and Cassandra reads to him from one of her favorite books. 

They make love in his bed, with only a couple candles for light, and they hold each other afterward, her head on his chest and her arms around his waist. He blows all the candles out, but they don’t go to sleep. Instead they talk, and all of sudden, the darkness has opened something within him and the words just slip out freely. Maybe it is the comfort they have with each other, maybe it is the emotional release of the day but they talk and talk about every thing on their minds. 

“I’m not the Herald,” he sighs. “I’m not the man you thought I was.”

“The man I thought you were?” Cassandra scoffs and her hand curls around his in the dark. “The man I thought you were is not the same man you are now. I thought you were brutish, insensitive, foolish, blasphemous…”

“Remind me again why we’re together?”

“But, I got to know you,” she continued. “And I realized who you really were. You are a faithful man, and whether you are the Herald or not, I believe you are blessed by the Maker.”

Jeremiah sighs and clutches the hand that is holding hers. “I don’t know if I believe that. What have I done that deserved the Maker’s blessing? I was a disgraceful person. I frittered away my families money, I drank and gambled and I bedded women with no regard to their feelings. The only reason I was at the Conclave was because my family couldn’t spare anyone worthy and figured it was a good way to keep me out of trouble.”

Cassandra takes his left hand, the one bearing the mark and lifts it above them so that they can see the faint glow. She then gathers it to her lips and kisses it.

“Without this, you would be dead. So many more people would be dead and Corypheus would have succeeded in his plan and well… I don’t want to speak of it. This mark means something. The Maker smiled upon you whether you deserved it or not. Now what are you going to do to be worthy of His blessing?”

“Thank you,” Jeremiah rolls over and pulls Cassandra close, kissing her cheek, then her lips. “I’ve done something right, if He gave me you. But, It scares me. I’ve never had so much to lose.”

Cassandra kisses back and closes her eyes. It is dark enough he can’t see her expression but she does let worry cross her face briefly. She lets him rest his head on the pillow next to her and she kisses his temple.

“You can’t live your life worrying about what you stand to lose,” she advises. “It’s getting late, lets try to sleep.”

Cassandra rolls to her side and Jeremiah slides in next to her, spooning her. He hears her soft breaths after a few moments and he relaxes further knowing she is asleep. He lays on his side for what feels like hours, chasing sleep, but it doesn’t come. The sun rises and he feels like he hasn’t slept for even a moment. 

In the night Cassandra has rolled over to face him, and he watches her sleep for awhile. Her face is peaceful, expressionless and calm. She snores ever so softy and he can even hear her murmur under her breath. He sees her waking, the way her eyes flutter, the way her body slowly comes back to life, the way she grimaces once her eyes open at the light flooding the room. She smiles once she sees his eyes are already open, and she snuggles closer to him. His arms immediately envelop her and she tucks her head against his chest. He knows today is a day of travel, last night in a comfortable bed and it will be tents for awhile now. He squeezes her around the waist and then slowly lets go as she disengages from him and moves away.

“Sleep well?” she asks, stretching beneath the covers. She sits up, kicking her legs over the sides and arching her back.

“Yes,” he lies. He pushes himself to a sitting position. He rubs the back of his hand across his tired eyes. Cassandra is already up and half dressed, buttoning and fastening her clothing. Jeremiah moves slowly, sluggishly. He pulls on his trousers and tunic and slips his new armor over the top. Cassandra speaks to him, but he’s not even listening. 

“Jeremiah?” she asks, noticing he hasn’t responded to her question.

“I’m sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “I didn’t hear what you said.”

“Never mind what I said.” Cassandra’s nose wrinkles and he can tell she’s annoyed.

“I’m still waking up,” he replies going over to her and brushing his hand over her cheek. “I’ll feel better after some strong coffee and some food.”

He bends and kisses her once. Her expression softens almost immediately. She reaches forward and takes his hand and they smile at each other.

“I love you,” she says, and it’s enough to stop him in his tracks. He looks at her carefully, trying to find the joke or the lie but she means what she says. He feels the nagging emptiness fill up just a little. For the first time since they returned from Adamant things make sense to him, even if just for a moment. Cassandra loves him, he must be doing something right. 

He watches as Cassandra lines her eyes with kohl, smudging it just so. It’s a ritual for her. She tried to explain it once, but asked that he just let her have this. She looks more like herself once it’s on, his warrior woman. His Seeker. 

They walk down to breakfast hand in hand, always in stride. The room is alive with light and noise and excitement. People are eating for travel, buttery croissants, large cups of coffee. He notices Bull shoving pastries in his pockets for the road. Sera’s hair looks freshly cut and especially jagged. His own hair could use a trim, he thinks, running his fingers through it. Varric hands them each an apple, sent from the orchards to the south, telling them they were the last two. He winks as he sees them eye them appreciatively. Cassandra puts hers in her pack, Jeremiah eagerly bites into his, feeling hunger for the first time in days. 

Among the hubbub, they sit at the breakfast table holding hands underneath it, sharing bites of an apple and Jeremiah drinks bitter coffee while Cass has herbal tea with fresh honey from the beekeepers in Val Royeaux. She doesn’t know her pack has a new romance novel from the city and a few more expensive soaps, both hidden there while she slept last night. 

“Well, Inquisitor, are you ready?” she asks, as the large group makes their way out of the hall and off for another adventure. 

“Whatever happens,” he says into her ear, a secret for just the two of them. “It’s you and me all the way.”


End file.
